#takhalaa

[rosahope]

@takhalaa said : ❛ You look well practiced in hiding pain. ❜ | ( the cruel prince / accepting !! )

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃, she used to sit on this same swingset in the park for hours. It had become something like a comfort to her on the days when she felt lonely and insecure — like a toddler's safety blanket or a teddy bear you couldn't quite bring yourself to put away.

Too many afternoons she recalled returning to this very spot with fat tears streaming down her cheeks because another kid had picked on her again, or she had felt inadequate to the impossible ideal of becoming like her mother; and though she was older now — and a touch wiser — the pain still lingered like an old scar that refused to heal.

She thought she had gotten better at hiding her emotions. Tamped a lid on her old hurts and haunts. But clearly he saw through her careful mask — maybe it had never really been there at all.

Or, perhaps he was merely too perceptive for his own good.

❝  I suppose there could be some truth to that...  ❞ Her face was solemn for a minute and then, abruptly, she changed the subject. ❝ Hey, Namu? You said you're competing in Battle City, right? Want to have a practise duel? You'll need it if you're going to beat someone like Kaiba Seto. ❞

[iilahalzili]

@takhalaa ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ☼ starter

How things had been in the favor of his old host. Fate has given his dear Hikari calm for so long, time spent without the darkness lurking and waiting for the right moment to strike. Seems that favor has ended.

"Look what Ammit dragged from the Duat. . .~" The words are spoken in a low tone, purrs laced into the last word--ironic coming from the one who would fit within the creatures of the Duat, "Dear Malik~" It would have been beneficial for the other if Marik never saw him again--never having to deal with the rage that lingers in the depths of his shattered soul. He will never forgive for his Hikari's cowardice at the end of the duel. . . never forget it is Malik's fault he was set back so many years, trapped and tortured for the failure of the Ritual. "Here I thought I would be going a few years longer before seeing your darling face--darling enough nothing would please me more than to make it twist with fear." The same fear he felt when control was whisked away again. . . Now, there is no power struggle with the shadow having his own flesh. Now, he cannot be suppressed.

[kujakku]

" life's not fucking fair to anyone, you know?"

the bitterness, the grugdge in her voice, they are thick like the trickling of blood she remembers spiraling down his throat when his head was chopped off during their game. she sees it still, in her nightmares, the way that fucker would smile like he was getting off on the very idea of her fear.

she will never get that image out of her mind. or the feeling of high voltage breaking through her muscles, or the bugs gnawing at her flesh.

" i, for one, had hoped you'd gone back to your egypt cave and shot yourself in the head, @takhalaa " and only 'cause she couldn't have done it herself - vengeance is a scalding meal, too hot to swallow in one go, " but here we are again. so, life's not fair to anyone, and i hope you know, " voice trembles into a breathy whisper, an involuntary reaction to looking directly into his eyes, taking one single step closer and smelling the scent around him. he's still wearing the same cologne, or the stench is too impregnated into her memory, " that the only reason why i haven't clawed your eyes out with my nails is because we're in a public venue. "

[ofthepuzzle]

❝ who invited you ? ❞

『 STARTER PROMPTS : Random Dialogue Prompts 』♚ ╰┈➤ @takhalaa

A moment of silence and then there’s an arch to a perfect eyebrow at the comment thrown his way. Magenta irises size the other up and underneath is a form of a smirk across full lips. The event plays almost akin to a drama scene, a line of electricity as though connecting two piercing gazes that have just met. The vivid hue in Atem’s hint of nonchalance, however. But there’s always that little bit of curiosity about what would happen next. The pharaoh’s history with Malik is unforgettable. To each their own, perhaps.

A dismissive sway to the hand follows.

“I came in by myself. Why? Is there a problem?” His voice is as laid-back as his posture— slightly slouched with his shoulders poised back. A ring-adorned hand is resting upon his protruding hip. His question is more-so rhetorical. Simultaneously, he doesn’t ask for trouble. And for that, the same smirk on his face fades into something more reserved, reticent. The bridge of his nose scrunches at the metaphorical tape of all the events during Battle City playing in his head like a film record. A reminder. He holds more resentment towards Marik than Malik. Then again, in turn, the resentment Malik has for him had developed two legs and is much worse. And Atem would rather not deal with him.